Shuffle, Switch, Repeat
by Lady.Bronte
Summary: A response to the 'shuffle' prompt - an enchantingly enjoyable mix of Kirk/Spock, Uhura/McCoy, Sulu/Chekov and Scotty, his scotch and his dear Enterprise.


**Shuffle, Switch, Repeat**

_The rules:_

_1. Put on your music program on shuffle/random and start playing songs._

_2. For each song, write something inspired by the song. You only have the song length. No pre-planning and no writing after the song is over. No skipping songs either._

_3. Do 10 songs and post. Make sure to include the song name/artist_

I loved what lyricoloratura did with this and decided to try it out myself. I've been ripping my hair out over Uncharted all day and I really needed a break!

Just so you know, this was probably the most fun I've had writing in a long time! You should absolutely try it, it's so much fun!

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All My Life – The Foo Fighters**

Jim Kirk leant against the wall, his arms folded, his gait tense. A nasty smirk played upon his slender lips like a deadly disease, ready to pounce and smother out those in its path. _Time's a wastin'_ he thought smugly to himself, watching Spock intently from his uncomfortable place on the wall. He was getting sick of waiting, getting sick of getting put down like on overzealous dog. It was about time he got somewhere with that stoic, over prompt, wretched little brat, just sitting there with his PADD in his hand like the king of the hill.

Well this was _his_ _hill,_ damn it.

Stepping from his perch, he covered the expanse of the room in a matter of seconds and wrenched the PADD from his willowy fingers, slamming it against the wall with a sickening crack. He didn't look at Spock as he bridged the gap between his lips and those of his lover.

He didn't watch as he sucked the Vulcan away.

**Stockholm Syndrome – Muse**

His blood was _boiling._

Those goddamn son of a bitch aliens almost had them in their grasps, those stupid pricks. Jim ran as fast as his feet would take him down the narrow path, hoping to all that was holy that Spock was getting the hell out of there as well. He had lost the Vulcan somewhere down in the catacombs when he turned on a hairpin and rocketed down one of the adjacent halls, leaving him alone in the tapered corridor. Dodging into the next series of hallways, Jim broke out into a sprint up a set of stairs and into the open air.

The sickening palm trees swayed wickedly against the darkening sky and Jim swallowed the anxious feeling in his stomach as he continued through the forest, thickening like custard along the way. He skidded to the left and only paused to hear him scream.

He ran.

**Bullet with Butterfly Wings – Smashing Pumpkins**

Spock played nimbly with the stylus in his hand, his mind preoccupied with other, more devious thoughts. His mind's eye kept replaying the same scene over and over again; the sparring, Jim down on the ground, his breathing ragged, his erection _hard_.

_So very, very hard_.

He flipped the stylus in the air and caught it deftly with his fingers; he wanted to rip him apart, rip him to pieces. He wanted to ravage him until he screamed, punish him until he cried for mercy. Spock let the far corner of his mouth curl up into a sly grin, envisioning his revenge.

But despite all his rage, he was still just a rat in a cage.

Getting to his feet, he ripped the metal bars to pieces; _not anymore_.

**Epoca – Gotan Project**

Nyota grinned; tonight was going to be a good night.

Dressed in a red satin dress, she stepped from her quarters and pretended not to see the gawking men and women that she passed. Her lithe, slender legs were delightfully accentuated by the onyx stilettos that were gracefully caressing her feet, giving her that extra bit of height that took _his _breath away.

The crimson satin streamed behind her like a deadly line of fire, scorching every unfortunate heart in its path. It shone deftly in the artificial light of the Enterprise, enticing every wandering eye that followed it down the corridor. The way it poured off her mocha shoulders was like a gentle sweep of a paintbrush, accentuating every one of her sinful, delicious curves. She licked her lips and lifted a carefully manicured finger to tap against the codex ever so gently, unwilling to give any indication to her presence.

She strode into the room like a liquid inferno, dousing any errant flame with a wink of her kohl lacquered eye. She swayed her hips before crossing the distance of his spacious quarters, backing the good doctor into a wall.

_And fire met ice_.

**Banana Pancakes – Jack Johnson**

Pavel Chekov loved pancakes more than he loved sleeping in; he loved how they tasted, he loved how fluffy they were, he loved how they reminded him of home. He loved dousing them with syrup until they were drowning and then shoving them in his mouth, licking away the syrup that would trail down his chin. He loved them with chocolate chips, he loved them with blueberries and he loved without anything at all.

He loved them especially on Sunday mornings; he liked that he got the day off so he could take his time eating them instead of shoving them into his mouth in a frenzied rush. He got to savour every little crumb of their feathery texture on his tongue and sometimes he liked to lick the plate just to make a show of it.

He loved them the most on Sunday mornings when Hikaru would join him every second week; he liked to watch Hikaru make a disgusted face every time he smothered his face into the plate and emerged with syrup all over his nose and cheeks. He loved watching him laugh when he stuffed his face like a chipmunk just to see how many pancakes he could fit into his mouth.

So he was even more in love when Hikaru brought him banana pancakes on a second Sunday morning and placed a bowl of syrup beside him with a cheeky grin.

It was _heaven_.

In more ways than one.

**Ave Maria Païen - Notre-Dame de Paris**

The way she laid there took his breath away.

Her sinewy body was deceivingly peaceful but her sleeping face was not; she looked pained, almost upset, as if some fell nightmare was destroying her in her mind. Her eyebrows were screwed together in defiance; her lips were pursed in fear.

_Protège-moi..._

She moaned and tossed her head to the side, her lips parting as she took a gasping breath; she thrust her chest upwards, filling her lungs with the sweet oxygen she craved. Her glossy onyx hair streamed like a fiery shade across her pillow as she wrenched her head back to face him, his eyes widened with the torture she was putting him through.

_Fais tomber les barrières entre nous..._

He bent down and cupped her cheek in his palm, caressing her soft skin in the cradle of his love. He dipped his face lower and pressed his lips to hers, pouring every ounce of his concern into the gentlest of kisses. Her lips were pliant and willing beneath his, returning the emotion once trapped within; it poured out of her soul, revealing her deepest of secrets like a scripture for his heart.

_Veille sur ma vie..._

**Austin Powers Theme – Austin Powers Movies**

Jim didn't know what it was, but he was positively convinced his current disposition of 'wasted out of his fucking mind' had nothing to do with the fact that he had replicated a pimp cane and was now proceeding to walk around the Enterprise with it.

McCoy took one look at him and thought he was going to eat his shorts; Hikaru dropped his bowl of yogurt; Chekov started choking on his waffles; Uhura fell to the floor and _died_.

Okay, so maybe the crushed velvet suit and the Beatles boots were a bit much.

**Home For A Rest – Spirit of The West**

There was nothing like a good whisky to get Scotty in high spirits.

"Sick o' the drink? Fuck no!"

Traipsing through the bowels of the Enterprise with a mickey of scotch in one hand and a screwdriver in the other, he sung a love song to the Enterprise that would have given Uhura a run for her money in linguistics.

"You'll haft eh excuse me lass! Ahm well jaikit meh as a wee kail but ah love yeh! Thon wee scunner up a yonder ain't got noothin' o' your prowess and magnificence...oh fuck, what am ah sayin'! Swarin' in front o' such a bonnie lass! I ought to beh clowt with a wee deid cuddie!"

His black and white kilt swished haphazardly between his legs, revealing to the Enterprise just what she was missing, "Haud yer wheesht! Yeh havenae heard nothin' yet! Yeh mind tha' bonnie croonin' ah wus doin' las' nicht? Well 'ere's another!"

And so Scotty sang long into the night, burrowing about the Enterprise's nooks and crannies with enough love to melt a Klingon's heart.

Not that she was complaining.

**Die Another Day – Madonna**

There was nothing like being at the receiving end of a phaser.

Jim dug his nails into his fists until they broke through his skin; his heart was thumping fervently in his chest like a beating hammer and the adrenaline that ran through his veins threatened to explode from his chest. He snarled at the grey alien holding him hostage and tried to kick out at him with his legs, missing him only marginally and getting a punch to the kidney in repayment.

He spat out the blood clot in his mouth and glanced sidelong at the Vulcan being held hostage as well. Green blood was streaming from his pale lips and from his temple; Jim tried to wrench himself from his captor's grasp to help him but the pasty alien held him firmly, roughly jerking him back into place.

He watched as Spock turned his head to the side and met up with his eyes, cerulean to onyx. Spock gave him a chaste nod before turning back to his captors, his eyes gleaming with the approaching onslaught.

"Well good sirs," Jim began, giving the alien before him his most winning smile, "I guess I'll die another day."

Jim grinned, "I can't say the same about you though."

**Livin' La Vida Loca – Ricky Martin**

Nyota Uhura was like no drug Leonard McCoy had ever encountered. She was a stimulant, a depressant, a suppressant; once he had gotten a taste of her, he had never been the same. He was crazy for his next fix of mocha skin; she took away his pain until he nearly died from the pleasure; she put him through the worst torture he had ever endured.

She made him go dancing.

She made him go singing.

She made his toes curl with her voodoo sex games.

Her lips were devilry.

_She_ _wore him out_.

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Review and let me know how you like it! As always, I love to hear what I'm doing right and wrong. And if you found any of these snippets particularly enjoyable, let me know and I might consider expanding them into a full sized fic (with the exception of the Austin Powers one! Been there, done that, read SOS).

Love and fluff,

Brontë


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